Love Letters
by Awesome Opossum
Summary: [Complete] Harry begins receiving love letters from somebody who signs only as "Anonymously." But who is this secret admirer, and why are they so dedicated to remaining anonymous? Complete.
1. Anonymously

[A/N - Another story from me, this time a briefer attempt. Four parts, updated as I feel like it. :-p I've just been in this amazing super-writer phase where every spare moment of mine (and even non-spare ones :-p) is spent curled up with a composition book and a beloved leaky blue pen that gets all over my hands. I look a bit diseased quite often now, with blue blotches all over my hands all the time. But it's worth it. So read on. :-)]

[Disclaimer - Harry Potter still doesn't belong to me. Imagine that.]

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_Harry –_

_I'm writing this in an ill-advised midnight daze, but bear with me. I just need to tell you two things. First, you have the most beautiful eyes I've ever seen. And second, the rest of you is pretty enough to match. Just letting you know._

_ Anonymously_

"Love letter?" Ron asked, peering over his shoulder.

"I guess that's what you'd call it," Harry answered, handing the parchment over with a shrug.

Ron scanned it. "Well, that's not Ginny's writing, if it makes you feel any better."

"I should hope not," Harry answered with a grin. "Dean would rip me limb to limb."

The barn owl hooted gently. "Right, sorry," Harry said, turning his attention to the bird. "Hold on just a second, would you?" He pulled out a scrap of parchment and a quill. Hastily he scribbled: _Thanks, I think. But who are you?_

He tied it to the owl's leg. "Give that back to whoever sent it, would you?" The owl blinked up at him and took flight out the open window. Harry watched, hoping he would see where the bird landed, but it turned around a corner of the castle. He sighed.

"So who do you think it was?" Ron asked, fidgeting with a quill.

"I don't know," Harry answered. "Does it matter? Probably some first-year Hufflepuff in love with me."

"You don't give yourself nearly enough credit," Ron told him. "I can think of at least one sixth-year Gryffindor in love with you."

"You said Ginny's – "

"Not _her_," Ron interrupted. "But would you happen to have a handwriting sample from a certain Colin Creevey?" He laughed as Harry blanched. "Kidding, only kidding, Harry." He pulled out a battered chess set from beneath his bed. "Care for a game?"

"Sure." They curled up on Ron's bed as the pieces arranged themselves. "Wonder when she'll get back to me, though," Harry said as he nudged a pawn forward.

Ron looked up with a grin. "One letter and already you're in love," he noted playfully.

"I am not." He moved a knight out, causing Ron's bishop to cackle. "But wouldn't you like to know who it is?"

Ron pushed the bishop forward, knocking out Harry's knight. "Well, sure," he answered. "But what, are you expecting a relationship out of it? I stand by my assertion that it's Colin."

"Oh, quiet."

_---_

_Harry –_

__

_I'm anonymous for a reason, though not one you'd expect. Can't we just exchange owls and I could be the mysterious exotic stranger you think about on cold lonely nights? Really, it would never work between us. You're the Boy Who Lived, but I'm me. I'll leave you with that clue. Until the next owl,_

_ Anonymously_

The letter had come with the morning post, from the same school barn owl. "What is that supposed to mean?" Ron pondered as he read over Harry's shoulder. "_You're the Boy Who Lived, but I'm me_?"

"It's true, in any case," Hermione said wryly.

"Thank you, 'Mione," Ron answered, raising his eyebrows. "Do you recognize the writing?" Harry handed the parchment to her.

She glanced at it briefly. "No, but is that really such a surprise?" She handed it back. "If she truly wants to remain anonymous she'd have disguised her writing. And that's why she's using a school owl as well."

"And if she just doesn't own an owl?" Ron asked.

Hermione shrugged. "She should be able to afford one, at least." She motioned to the paper with her fork. "That's really good expensive parchment. And the silk ribbon she's using to tie it? Those aren't cheap, compared to string like everyone else uses."

"And _that's_ why she can't afford an owl, because she's writing to Harry on the expensive parchment," Ron retorted.

"_Enough_," Harry snapped. "I think you two care more than I do. They'll remain the mysterious exotic stranger for now. Although I'm not sure about the cold lonely nights part."

"You take the fun out of everything, Harry," Ron complained. "That's all _I'd_ keep 'em around for. Ow!" he protested when Hermione hit him across the back of the head.

"That was for being a chauvinist," she informed him primly. "Are you ready to go? We have to be in class in ten minutes."

"I guess." Ron took a final piece of bacon for the trip, and they went to retrieve their bags from the dorms.

---

"Morning, Mudblood," Draco drawled as Harry and Hermione entered the dungeon. "You're looking especially buck-toothed and know-it-all this morning. And Potter, Hogwarts's own pint-sized celebrity with a hero complex."

"Sod off, Malfoy," Harry said shortly as they took the desk next to the one he was perched on.

"Touchy this morning, hm? Is it because your Weasel-buddy didn't get in to advanced Potions? It's amazing _you_ made it in, Potty; if I were Professor Snape, I wouldn't trust you making poisons. Although if you're not careful that may not be a bad thing."

Behind him, Hermione audibly ground her teeth. "Why don't you just leave him alone, Malfoy? He hasn't done anything to you, why antagonize him?"

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Potter hasn't treated me kindly since we met at the Sorting. Besides, anybody who keeps the company of people like yourself and Weasel don't deserve my respect."

"Or your attention, Malfoy, so why don't you just turn around and leave me and Hermione alone," Harry told him.

"Why should I listen to you?" Draco sneered. Harry reached for his wand, but Draco was quicker. He grabbed a jar set out for today's class and threw the contents in Harry's face. Ground runespoor scales. Harry coughed and felt an itchy rash spread along his face. He ignored it and picked up a glass vial.

"Harry, don't!" Hermione gasped. He ignored her, pulled off the stopper, and tossed it at Draco. Bobotuber pus spattered across Draco's desk and arms, and boils the size of a golf ball swelled upon his skin.

"Potter! Malfoy!" Snape thundered from the doorway. The entire class whirled around; nobody had realized he was there. "You will go to the infirmary. You will come back and participate in class. And then you're getting detention for a _month_," he snarled. "The rest of you who aren't stupid enough to throw my ingredients at each other, read the second section of chapter nine."

"This is all your fault," Draco muttered under his breath as they trudged to the infirmary.

"_My fault_? You started it. I wouldn't have a rash covering my face if you had just left me and 'Mione alone."

Draco gave him a sideways smirk. "What's the fun in that?" They rounded a corner and Harry breathed a sigh of relief. The infirmary.

Draco pulled open the door and allowed Harry to go first. "You can explain to Madam Pomfrey how you attacked me unprovoked."

"How gracious of you."

Madam Pomfrey bustled up, wringing her hands. "Oh dear, what happened to you both? Here, have a seat, I'll get the salve." She pulled Harry and Draco to a pair of chairs. "I don't think a week goes by when I don't see you here, Mr. Potter," she said, dabbing goo onto his face with a cotton swab. "What's the cause this time?"

"Him," Harry spat, motioning to Draco beside him.

Madam Pomfrey clucked her tongue disapprovingly. "And no doubt Mr. Malfoy acquired those – " she motioned to the boils along Draco's arms – "from you?"

"Yes," Harry answered bluntly. He expected Draco to further exaggerate, but he remained quiet.

Madam Pomfrey smeared cool minty gel down both of Draco's arms and wound thick cloth bandages around them. "That's all I can do for you, I'm afraid. It should clear up within a week. Mr. Potter, I'd give yours an hour or two. Now back to class, both of you."

"Thank you," Harry said, rising to leave. Draco stepped in front of him and pushed open the door, letting it slam in Harry's face.

Harry pushed it back open and caught up with Draco. "You _had_ to pick the Bobotuber pus, didn't you?" Draco asked, pulled his sleeves over the bandages.

"Yes, I did. You were being obnoxious."

"Oh, and you weren't?"

"I would have gladly ignored you."

"Easier said than done."

"What is _that_ supposed to mean?"

"Nothing."

Harry would have loved to punch Draco in every one of his boils until they burst.

---

Potions was a solemn affair; Snape was seething and nobody wanted to do anything to incur his wrath. And, as he had promised, he gave both Harry and Draco a month of detention beginning tomorrow night, which ruined the rest of Harry's day. So it was almost a happy occasion when the barn owl tapped at his window that evening.

Ron was in the library, studying with Hermione (or so he had told Harry beforehand, tips of his ears pink and a pleased grin on his face). And the rest of his roommates were in the common room. So Harry could enjoy the letter alone. He let the bird in and took the parchment.

_Dear Harry,_

_You never wrote me back this morning. I hope you didn't mind me self-appointing as the mysterious exotic stranger, as that's the only way I wish to be known to you as._

_I heard you got in a fight with Draco during Potions. I hope you're okay. Do you really hate him that much? I think he's gorgeous._

_Autumn Ball for the seventh years is coming up. Do you have anybody to go with? I'm not offering, I'm just curious. Until next time,_

_ Anonymously_

Harry pulled out a piece of parchment and a quill. Fine, Anonymously. You get an honest-to-god letter.

_Anonymously – _

_I forgot about your letter this morning, sorry. I'll make this one longer to make up for it._

_Yes, me and Malfoy got in a fight in Potions. And yes, I really hate him. Even if he is "gorgeous," he's a git. Find somebody else to like. Or have you already?_

_I also completely forgot about the Autumn Ball until you mentioned it. I don't know if I'm going, though – nobody to go with. My two best friends are going with each other and anyone else I may have considered asking is already taken. You wouldn't think I have trouble finding somebody. At least somebody who wouldn't mind making themselves known. Hint hint. At the moment, I guess I'm just going to spend the night in my room alone._

_What did you mean when you said that I'm the Boy Who Lived and you're you? I don't see a problem with that…Could you at least tell me about yourself? Anything? I promise I won't tell._

_ Harry_

The barn owl had been watching him, and stuck up his leg obediently when Harry picked up the parchment. He tied it on with the length of black silk that had bound Anonymously's letter. "You know the deal." The owl hooted gently before soaring out of the window.

Harry pulled out his homework and settled down on his bed. But he got almost nothing done because every few minutes he would glance out of the window, hoping for another letter.


	2. Detention and Fingernails

[A/N – Yay, second chapter. Am very enthusiastic about this, partly because it's a fun story to write and partly because I guess all y'all think it's a fun story to read. And I aim to please. :-)  Now to thank my reviewers (skip the comments if you want, they're long this time :-p):

**Miyamashi**: Hehe, thank you.****

**Paris Detweiler**: Wrote more soon for you! (Actually, almost all of the story, save the last 2/3 of the last chapter is written. But posted more soon for you.)

**kazillion**: Yay you for figuring it out!

**Fantasy101**: Thanks, and am. :-)

**Swords-Babe**: Haha, I never even considered anyone thinking it'd be Hermione. She's so knowledgeable about them because, well, she's Hermione. And is the girl of the group to boot. But if I'd left her out of this? It would be Harry and Ron sitting there going, "Huh. Wonder who it is." "I don't know." "Neither do I. How're we supposed to know?" "Oh well." And I can't make that into a good fic. Thus Hermione's super-smart super-girly attitude. :-p

**Bluumberry**: I imagined that he wrote that with quite a smirk on his pale pretty face. So there, he's got a sense of humor. :-p (Even if he probably does really believe that…) And yeah, I'm very much aware that the idea's been done before, probably to death. But after I decided that I wanted to write this, I tried to actively avoid those fics. Because I want it to be uniquely mine, instead of a mesh of all the other previous "love letter" fics, you know? So there you go.

**Imogen**: Thanks! I try to keep them in character as much as possible while still telling my story as I want it to happen. So I'm glad it sounds like you think it worked. :-)

**natalie**: Thank you for sending the email, it was quite a pleasant surprise. :-) And I'm really glad you like the fic.

And **Telerairei**: Yours goes last because I really wanted to talk about this point. People who write stories with a splash of mystery to them and keep their readers _completely in the dark_ the entire time? They suck. :-p Unless that's the purpose of the story. But in mine, it isn't. I _want_ you all to know who's writing these. I want you to play along at home with me, not with Harry, who's a bit slower on the uptake. Because to completely not tell you the entire story, until the last paragraph when he jumps out of a box and yells "Surprise!" (figuratively, not writing that in :-p) would just be so dull and manipulative up to that point. You're too nice a bunch to do that too. So that's my entire feeling on the "secret" in "secret admirer" in this story.

And now that _those_ are done (whew, that took longer than I expected) and I've completely divulged my writing secrets (ha, what writing secrets?) onto the fic! :-D

---

            Harry came down to breakfast late, still sleepy after staying up half the night. Hermione and Ron were sitting together, chatting as Hermione fed a snowy owl – Hedwig, he realized – pieces of toast.

            "Letter from your lover," Ron announced as Harry sat down, tossing him the paper.

            "Really, Harry, this probably isn't healthy," Hermione told him disapprovingly. "Doesn't she seem a little…obsessive?"

            "That's okay," Harry answered, unrolling the letter.

_Dear Harry,_

_Don't guilt-trip me like that. There are probably plenty of people willing to attend the Ball with you. Not me, though – I'm a little bit bored by balls. Spending the night in your room alone with you, however, is an idea._

_Something about me, hm? I really can't think of anything that isn't too revealing and personal and non-vital. The sheets on my bed at home are velvet and silk. I use clear nail polish on my nails. And I am really not anybody you're probably guessing I am. Is that enough for you?_

_Now, I think, I'm entitled to hear a secret about you._

_And I hope you don't mind my use of Hedwig. That poor barn owl was getting tired and bored. But don't worry, your owl knows how to get back to me. Pity you can't talk to owls like you do snakes._

_Have a good day, Harry. Until next time, I remain,_

_                        Anonymously_

            Ron made an impatient grunt in his throat. "What did they say?"

            "They wear clear nail polish," Harry said. "Like I could even tell."

            Hermione examined her own nails. "I don't see how they _could_. They get so chipped cutting up ingredients in Potions. Or if she's in Care of Magical Creatures? She's not the sort for hard labor, that's for sure."

            "'Mione, stop _thinking_," Ron ordered her. She smiled back at him. "Anything else?"

            "Velvet and silk bedsheets," Harry said, shrugging. "Like _that_ helps me at all." He noticed a grin spreading across Ron's face. "No, I was _not_ just propositioned, don't smirk at me like that."

            "Why else would she mention it?" Ron asked.

            Hermione tapped Ron's skull. "Rich, remember?"

            "Oh."

---

            They didn't have Potions that morning – for which Harry was grateful, because he would see plenty of Snape tonight. The trio walked to Care of Magical Creatures for their morning class.

            It really was a dull class that day: Hagrid had rumbled, "Page sixty-four for now, we'll do int'restin' stuff later," before ambling into the Forbidden Forest. Everyone exchanged dark glances at what the "int'restin' stuff" would include.

            Harry flipped through the pages idly, glancing up occasionally to try to catch his mystery crush sneaking glances. No such luck. Although Lavender and Parvati did seem more giggly than usual. But that could just be his imagination.

            He was also paying much closer attention to girls' nails. Lavender's were blue, Parvati's red. A Hufflepuff named Danielle had a French manicure, and a Slytherin named Persephone had painted hers black. Hermione caught his eye. "You're obsessing," she said with a smile. "Knock it off."

            Harry raised his eyebrows. "It's not doing any harm. In fact…." Her pulled the note from his bag. "I think I'll answer the letter now." Hermione sighed.

Anonymously – 

_You got it exactly right, your "clues" were completely non-vital and not at all revealing. I hope you're satisfied, I've been looking at girls' hands all morning. I don't know if you deserve a secret of mine in exchange. Nor have I got one that isn't too revealing and non-vital. I'll think about it._

_If you reply tonight, don't be offended. I've got detention tonight with Snape and Malfoy. It should be about as pleasant as circumcising a hippogriff. Not that I have any experience in the matter. At any rate, expect my next letter tomorrow morning. I'll be looking forward to yours._

_                        Harry _

            He folded it in quarters and avoided his friends' gazes, suddenly embarrassed of all the time he had spent thinking about the mystery girl recently. But that didn't keep him from giving the letter to Hedwig to deliver between class.

---

            Detention that night began at six-thirty, barely enough time for Harry to eat and drop off his bag. He trudged up reluctantly to the Potions classroom, but the door was thrown open before he could knock.

            "Potter. How kind of you to join us," Snape drawled. Draco was leaning on a desk behind him, arms crossed. Snape ushered him inside. "You both will be here for three hours, though I would gladly extend it if you are not on task." He gave them both severe looks. "For tonight, I believe that the punishment will fit the crime. Potter, you'll be milking Bobotubers. Mr. Malfoy, you will grind runespoor scales." He removed two bags from his cabinet as well as two pairs of gloves, dropping them in front of Harry and Draco. "I'll be checking up on you periodically." He spun on his heel and left.

            Harry sighed as he dejectedly pulled on the gloves. "Three hours with Bobotubers and you."

            Draco looked up. "You're just a pessimist, Potter."

            "It's not pessimism if the glass really is empty."

            Harry saw a flicker of amusement in Draco's pale eyes as he reached for his gloves. "Think it's funny?"

            "Yes, Potter, I do. And I'm in the same situation, so complaining will get you nowhere." He reached into a cabinet, pulling out a mortar and pestle. "Need a container?"

            "Yeah." Draco tossed him a metal tub and shut the cabinet again. "Really, grinding scales for Professor Snape. This is slave labor."

            "I'm in the same situation, so complaining will get you nowhere," Harry told him mockingly.

            "Right. Sorry."

            "Are you really?"

            "What do you take me for?" He poured runespoor scales into the bowl, grinding them half-heartedly.

            Harry watched him as he milked a Bobotuber. "At that rate you'll be done in a day or two."

            Draco glanced at him and pounded the pestle down violently. "That, Potter," he announced, "was your face." Another violent slam. "This will go by much faster, you're right."

            Harry clenched his teeth and squeezed a Bobotuber a bit too hard, splattering pus along the desk. "Oh, I was kidding, don't get all testy and vicious," Draco told him exasperatedly, leaving his mortar to help mop up the mess.

            Harry watched incredulously as Draco helped him clean up. "Malfoy? Are you feeling okay?"

            Draco tossed the rag he had been using in a sink and rinsed it out. "I'm just splendid, spending my evenings for a month in detention."

            "I thought there was a mutual agreement not to complain," Harry said. "But why are you being…helpful?"

            Draco rung out the rag and left it to dry. "Well, we're going to be spending a lot of time together. So why not at least be civil?"

            Harry blinked. "Are you _capable_ of that?"

            "I'm trying."

            "Oh." Harry picked up a second Bobotuber. "You're going to just confuse everybody by being nice."

            "I can still pretend I hate you outside of detention, if you'd like," Draco offered mockingly, picking up his pestle distastefully.

            "What do you mean, pretend?" Harry burst a Bobotuber. "You don't really?"

            Draco said nothing, instead looking carefully at the scales in front of him.

            "Then why did you always act so…like you around me?"

            "Because you've been nothing but hostile to me since I introduced myself in the first year."

            "I had no reason to be nice to somebody who was a snotty, pompous jerk that made fun of my friends."

            "No, you didn't."

            Harry didn't know quite how to respond to that, so he fell quiet and concentrated on milking Bobotubers. Draco was grinding the scales a bit more powerfully than was necessary. And every once in a while, Harry saw out of the corner of his eye, Draco glanced at him, then back at his scales. No doubt picturing his face in the bottom of the mortar.

Detention passed silently until an hour later when the door swung open and Snape entered. "You're both still alive?" he asked with mild surprise.

            "It looks that way, doesn't it?" Harry answered shortly.

            Snape came up behind him and pushed his hands out of the way, peering into the tub. "It's a shame you aren't this productive in class, Mr. Potter." He moved to Draco's desk. "You too, Mr. Malfoy." Draco looked up, setting down the pestle. "Does this mean I can go?"

            "No, it does not. I have already contacted your father about your behavior in class. However, Mr. Potter, I don't have the address of your relatives…?"

            "It would be a waste of parchment, Professor," Harry answered honestly. "They wouldn't care anyway."

            "Nevertheless, it's standard policy for me to write them. So the address?" Snape had a quill ready.

            "You can get it from Dumbledore if you care that much," Harry answered defiantly. "And while you're there, _he_ can tell you too that it's a waste of parchment if you don't believe me."

            Snape's nostrils flared. "That will be upon my discretion, Potter, thank you for your input." He left, and they returned to their tasks.

            "You live with Muggles, don't you?" Draco asked.

            "Yeah," Harry answered defensively. "Why?"

            "Are they horrible? Do they feed you? You always come back from holidays looking a bit gaunt." Draco eyed his form, and Harry blushed.

            "I'm fine. And yes, they're horrible, but I'm moving out after this year."

            "You've got nowhere to go."

            "I'll buy a home nearby."

            "You'll be lonely. Unless Potter's got a lover he hasn't told me about?" Draco asked, raising an eyebrow.

            "No, I don't, and you wouldn't be told if I did," Harry answered shortly. The acrid smell of pus was making him dizzy, and he glanced at the clock. Still an hour and a half left. "Why are you asking?"

            "I told you, I'm trying really hard to be civil."

            "Oh, that's right. I forgot."

            Draco glanced up again from the mortar, a slight frown creasing his forehead. Harry shifted so he couldn't see him out of the corner of his eye.

            Snape came back at nine-thirty, deeming their work "acceptable" and allowing them to leave. Harry pulled off his gloves, allowing them to shrink back to their original size and vanish the stray drops of pus before tossing them back in a cupboard.

            Draco pulled off his own and threw them in the same cupboard. "Same time tomorrow, Potter?" he asked amiably.

            Harry blinked. "I guess so."

            "You have no sense of humor." Draco turned on the faucet and rinsed his hands as Harry turned to leave. "See you later."

            He turned back. "Bye." Draco wiped his hands on a towel and was now inspecting his fingernails.


	3. Fancy Meeting You Here

[A/N – Okay, announcement about my personal life. It affects everybody reading this who cares. I'm in summer trig. It's brutal. I understand half the concept twice too late, if that makes sense. So I'm pouring 110% into that and absolutely none into writing. So my fourth and final chapter of this isn't complete yet. I wasn't planning to update this until the fourth chapter was done, but then I felt that would be really unfair to all of you who reviewed, asking me to update soon. Because I'm going to be scarce all this week. Tuesday and Wednesday I'll be preparing for my midterm in trig. And from Thursday to Sunday I'm going camping with extended family and friends. Because I really really need a fricking break. However, I'm going to write in every spare moment I have during that trip, and when I come back on Monday I'll have the fourth chapter ready to be typed up and posted. So you've got awhile to wait for the end. Really sorry, but I feel like if I do it any more quickly than that, I'll implode. Hope you all understand.

And another thing, this time strictly about the story. I've gotten a couple of reviews so far, saying "Oh, is this slash? I hope not! Because slash is gross!" or along those lines. The sentiment, for whatever reasons those people have them, is a little upsetting to me, but I'll refrain from my soapbox because I doubt I can change anyone's mind for better or worse just in an author's note. However, yes, this story is SLASH. I've adjusted the summary to warn everyone so, and if you don't read slash, well, I wish you luck finding a fic more to your liking. Sorry if it feels like I've led anyone astray.

And finally, thank you to all my reviewers. I can't respond individually, however, because as I mentioned previously, I'm hella busy. So. :-p But thank you for reading, and I always appreciate feedback. Enjoy!]

_Dear Harry,_

_The clues were really not helpful, I know. That was intentional. If you'd like something more important, you're probably looking at the wrong people. I'm not part of your fanclub of first-year Hufflepuffs. Or a certain sixth-year Gryffindor or two._

_Sorry about the detention. However, your hippogriff comment was crude and completely unnecessary. But it made me laugh._

_And I so deserve to know something private about you. I've told you about a half a dozen things by now about myself. I'm surprised you still don't know who I am. Not that I'm complaining._

_Looking forward to your next letter,_

_ Anonymously_

_PS – Hedwig doesn't like me, so back to the school owls._

It had come with the morning post – this time delivered by a minute sooty-black owl who looked pleased to have a job. "You know what, Ron?" Harry said with a grin. "I think you've been chatting with my lover. _I'm not part of your fanclub…a certain sixth-year Gryffindor or two."_ He raised an eyebrow at his friend.

"Yes, Harry, it's me, glad you finally figured it out," Ron answered. "Will you come home with me and make passionate love on my – what was it? Silk and velvet bedsheets?"

"Only after we paint our nails together," Harry answered.

Hermione had been watching with mild interest. "You should ask them to meet up sometime." She raised an eyebrow. "Didn't they mention the Autumn Ball awhile ago? Meet her there."

"Like they'd agree to that. You've seen the letters, you know they want to stay _Anonymously_."

Hermione shrugged. "You choice, then. But wouldn't you like to know who it is?"

---

Of course he did. He wanted to know so much that he didn't pay attention in Potions and take notes, instead penning a reply to Anonymously.

_Anon –_

_First of all, Hedwig likes everybody unless you drop her cage while she's in it. So don't even start. Unless you did, in fact, stuff her in a cage and then drop it. But why on earth would you do that?_

_And I finally know something useful about you. Thanks, I think._

_In exchange, something about me. My middle name is James. I hate the people I live with and they hate me back. And I'm allergic to grapefruit. I really don't have anything that's secret and not scandalous to tell you. Sorry._

_Detention again tonight (and for a month more) at the same time, so don't expect another letter until tomorrow morning._

_ Harry_

He swirled the quill absently under his name, making loops and curlicues. Okay, so it was a bit girly, but it looked nice. Almost flirtatious.

No. He would not be flirtatious with a stranger.

Well, a bit late now.

He sent the note off with the perky black owl in between classes, and was as distracted during Defense Against the Dark Arts. He was staring at nothing and thinking about nothing when Ron elbowed him in the ribs.

"No more Hermione, remember?" he hissed. "Take your own notes!"

"Why don't you," Harry replied irritatedly under his breath. Ron gave him a look that said they both knew how likely _that_ would be. Harry sighed and pulled out a piece of parchment.

But during pauses in the lecture, he practiced his swirls and curlicues along the margin of the paper.

---

During lunch a raven swooped down toward the Gryffindor table, a relief from the dozens of owls overhead. And it landed right in front of Harry.

"Good lord," Ron murmured.

Hermione shook her head. "It's someone else. See? No black silk."

It was an unaddressed white envelope sealed with unstamped wax. Harry broke the seal and pulled out a letter.

"It's not your lover?" Ron asked, sounding disappointed.

"I hope not," Harry answered. "It's from Moody. He says he can get me into a position as an Auror straight out of school if I want."

Ron's jaw dropped. "Give me that." He took the letter and scanned it. "He's not lying!" he said to Hermione, astonished.

Hermione slapped his wrist lightly. "Of course he's not. Congratulations, Harry."

"Thanks," Harry answered numbly. He took his letter back, tucking it in a pocket. "I'll have to write him back this afternoon." He ran his hand through his hair. "Wow."

---

So that was a second day in Care of Magical Creatures he didn't pay attention. But when he had told Hagrid, he was swept up in a smothering hug that lifted him off the ground.

So he figured Hagrid would understand.

He had just finished his letter to Moody when Hermione pushed a scrap of parchment in front of him: _Harry, I'm happy for you, but you'll never be an Auror if you fail all of your classes. Pay attention!_

He looked up at her, and in return she raised her eyebrows reproachfully. He folded his letter and turned to listen to Hagrid.

"Malaclaws aren' really dangerous, but if yer bit by one they make ya unlucky." He paused. "Well, 'kay, they might be dangerous if ya rock-climb or somethin'. But they're pretty docile 'slong you don' aggravate 'em." He reached into the aquarium and ran a finger down the creature's shell. "See? They're fine, ya just gotta be gentle – Ow!"

Harry peered into the aquarium and saw that one of the creature's claws was firmly latched onto Hagrid's finger. "Blasted thing, not with Quidditch startin' next week," he muttered. He lifted his hand, malaclaw still attached, out of the aquarium. "Er, I gotta go take care a' this. Class dismissed."

There was a hasty shuffling of papers as everyone packed up their things. "Come on," Hermione said, rising from her seat. "I know a paste I can make that will help. Oh, poor Hagrid. Let's go." Ron followed her, but Harry hung back.

"Harry?" Ron asked, glancing back at him. "Aren't you coming?"

"Actually," Harry said hesitantly, "I was going to the Owlery and get this mailed before Defense."

Hermione gave him an exasperated look. "Can't it _wait_?"

"I've got no evenings anymore, remember?" Harry answered defensively. "He'll be fine, Hermione."

"Oh, go then," she said irritatedly. "Come on, Ron." She grabbed his wrist and ran after Hagrid, calling, "Hagrid! Do you own any baking soda and orange juice?"

---

Harry rolled the parchment and searched for a spare bit of string in his pocket. He found one and tied it around the paper. Then he pushed open the door of the Owlery to find Hedwig.

He wasn't alone; Draco was standing on a stool trying to coax an owl down from the rafters. An excitable minute sooty-black owl.

Draco spun around when Harry let the door close. "Potter," he greeted him, stepping off the stool and trying to slip the letter into a pocket of his robes. But not before Harry saw it. A roll of expensive parchment. Tied with a black silk ribbon.

Harry looked back up at Draco, and they both _knew_. Dammit. "Um, I should go now," Harry said awkwardly.

"Yeah, you should," Draco answered quietly.

Harry left the Owlery quickly, Moody's letter now forgotten. The grounds were deserted; everyone was still in class. He didn't want to tell Ron and Hermione - there was a vague sense of shame in telling them. So he started back to his room, thinking about Draco the entire way there.

He was going to be sick.


	4. The Confrontation

[A/N – I am back from camping and still alive. :-) Family and family friends reunion, much fun had by all. And I finished the fourth and final chapter while there! Although now it's kind of depressing that I've got nothing else to write. But I'll overcome that soon. Now to thank my Chapter 3 reviewers. There were a lot of you this time around, good lord. :-p So y'all that don't want to read, well, scroll down a ways.

**kazillion** – You get a million super-cool points on my completely arbitrary scale for being empathetic. :-) And for once again being the first reviewer. I'm very glad you thought it was perfect as well. I aim to please. And yes, orange juice and baking soda is incredibly helpful should you have the misfortune to stumble across a Malaclaw. Actually, no, I just made that up, not in Fantastic Beasts or anything. But feel free to try. ;-)

**Fantasy101** – He gets over the nausea soon enough. :-) And hopefully this is updated soon enough for you.

**Bluumberry** – Yeah, all of the trio's hypotheses were rather girl-oriented. Because, well, it's just not commonplace in the HP universe to get slashy love letters. And Harry was just shocked and overwhelmed at the end of the last chapter. Wouldn't you be too? :-p 

**RabbidChicken** – Oh good, I have the capacity to make someone die. Hooray me. Updated, in any case. :-)

**Telerairei** – How am I supposed to reply to _that_? :-p Hehe, though, glad you liked it.

**Kate **– Harry got over his nausea soon after, don't worry. :-)

**Dracula-Loves-Me** – Haha, don't worry, Draco gets better in this chapter.

**X-mas Gurl** – Yay, that's _two_ people that read the author's note. Patient people rock my socks. :-) Here's the ending just for you! (Gah, I can't believe it's really over. But I hope you'll like it.)

**musicgirl141 – **Summer trig is time-consuming, yes. Don't do it if you haven't already. :-p I'm glad you liked it, and I'm home early and so updating Sunday instead of the promised Monday. Whee. :-)

**treana – **Hehe, glad you like it, and here's more for you.

**GothicAnn87 **– Yay you for being right. :-) And I will so check out your stories, hopefully soon. Because you're cool. :-)

**zina** – Nah, no angst here. Much fluff instead. :-) I'm really glad you like it, and updated it for you.

**Abracadabra** – Thanks. :-) Hooray, the amazing Abra likes it. Kept it up and updated for you.

**Puppy Kicker** – First, you have the sickest screenname I've seen on FFN yet. It makes me laugh. :-D (Ooh, that sounds bad of me...) Glad you like it enough to check back, and hope you like this section as well.

**TheSecretCharacter** – Huh. I was just threatened. For not updating my story soon enough. Is that a…compliment? :-p Updated especially for you. Ahem. Although I might keep my distance from you now. ;-)

**IndigoDeath666** – Wow, thank you. Didn't mean to leave you hanging, but you know, life. In any case, here's the last chapter.

So that was time-consuming and well worth it. :-) Since this is the final chapter, I guess I should have an extra-special message for y'all. I really enjoyed writing this story, probably even more than most of you enjoyed reading it. I'll be writing more H/D slash in the future – in fact, I'll be writing a lot in general. Partially due to the awesome encouragement from my readers. Another big THANK YOU to anyone who reviewed any part of Love Letters. You guys rock. :-)

- Awesome Opossum]

---

Defense was a quiet affair. Ron knew that something was wrong – Harry never had been the sulky type – but when he asked, Harry had remained quiet, instead focusing on the notes in front of him.

It was maddening.

After class was over, Harry had gathered his books and left without saying a word. They had _always_ walked to classes together. Always since their first year. And now Ron as trudging to lunch along.

Absolutely maddening.

He had told Hermione about Harry's behavior over lunch. And she, conversely, demanded that he abandon his shepherd's pie and go talk to Harry. Which would be the normal plan of action. But Harry probably wouldn't tell anyway. And it was good shepherd's pie. But because he was an amazing friend (and Hermione had a titanium grip on his wrist), he went.

Hermione knocked gently on the door. "Harry? Are you okay? You're not sick, are you?"

"No, I'm fine, don't worry about me," Harry called.

"May we come in?"

"No."

She frowned. "Harry, _please_."

"You can talk to me just fine from where you are."

Ron nudged Hermione out of the way and opened the door. "Sorry, mate, just need my bag."

"You have your bag with you, and you're absolutely full of shit."

The curtains around Harry's bed were drawn, but Ron threw them open. "Yeah, well, so are you. We know something's wrong and we'd love to help, but if you won't _tell_ us we really can't. I hate it when you're like this, so withdrawn and angsty. It doesn't make me feel sorry for you, it just makes me annoyed, to tell you the truth. So just _what_ is getting you so depressed?"

Harry sighed. "I don't want to talk about it just yet, okay? Later."

Ron's features softened. "You sure you're okay?"

"Yeah. You go have fun without me," Harry said with a weak smile.

Ron returned it. "Alright, Harry. I'll see you later." He happened to glance at Harry's bedspread before leaving. Almost concealed beneath the folds was a stack of parchment, tied in black silk. Of course.

---

That night, Harry had firmly decided that he would sooner be dead than in detention with Draco. What was left to say after _that_? So incredibly awkward. However, he had no viable method to kill himself. So, with a feeling of dread gnawing at the pit of his stomach, he left for detention.

"Potter," Snape greeted him with a sneer. "Glad you finally could join us."

Harry glanced at the clock over Snape's shoulder. Ten minutes late. Oops. "Sorry, sir."

Snape turned without answering. "You barely got here after Mr. Malfoy. So I feel that an extra half-hour tonight would be fitting." He clapped a hand on Draco's shoulder, who flinched and looked a bit green. "If that will work with both of your busy schedules?"

"Yes, sir," Draco answered, smoothing his hair and standing. "So what are we doing tonight?"

"You'll be scouring the desktops and counters, and when you're finished you will scrub the floors."

Draco groaned. "Sir, I know spells for that if you want."

"Mr. Malfoy, I know a few dozen myself, thank you. I wish you to do it by hand. You know where the supplies are." Snape turned and left, shutting the door behind him.

Harry silently pulled out buckets and sponges while Draco got polish and a scouring solution. Harry pushed a bucket in front of him while avoiding eye contact. Draco poured scouring solution in both buckets and mixed it with water. "So," he said tentatively, "grapefruit allergy? Too bad."

"Yeah. Only found out after we had it for breakfast all summer last year," Harry answered, swirling the solution around.

"I'm sorry." Harry glanced at Draco. He wasn't talking about the grapefruit.

"Don't be." He began scouring the desk opposite Draco.

"Can we talk?" Draco asked bluntly.

"You can."

"Would you at least listen?"

"Uh-huh."

Draco took a deep breath. "Okay. I'd rather you just forget everything. But that won't happen, I guess?"

"Nope."

"It was a stupid thing to do anyway. I couldn't sleep because of…you. And so I wrote that."

"You were lying awake thinking about me?" Harry asked mildly, not looking up.

"Yeah. Sorry. Even so, I never should have sent it. But…I thought it was fair to let you know."

"Oh." Harry moved onto the next desk. "Then why the half-dozen other letters?"

"I don't know." Draco dipped his sponge into the bucket a bit too harshly, splashing the water over the side. "Maybe I wanted you to find out."

"Well, there you go." He moved onto a third desk, still keeping his eyes down.

"Are you mad?" Draco asked.

"No."

"You're not?" He sounded incredulous. "So…?"

"So I don't know how to feel," Harry answered with a shrug.

Draco fell quiet and scrubbed another desk. They finished those and moved to the counters.

"Do you hate me?" Draco asked, looking over his shoulder while he polished the counter.

"No. Just let it go, alright?" Harry spritzed another section with polish and rubbed it down. "It wouldn't work between us."

Draco nearly choked, then composed himself and came up behind Harry. "Nobody else needs to know," he murmured in Harry's ear.

"They would figure it out sooner or later," Harry answered, dropping his sponge and turning to face Draco, so close their bodies touched. "But…it would be fun while it lasted." He looked up into Draco's eyes, silver and unsure and silently pleading, and they both _knew_. This was exactly what they wanted.

Draco pushed him back against the counter, one arm on either side of him, keeping him there. Not that he had any plans to leave. He slipped his arms around Draco's waist, pulling him closer. Draco ducked his head and gave him a gentle kiss.

His lips were soft, and very very kissable. Harry leaned into the kiss, wanting it, wanting more, wanting him. He ran his fingers through Draco's silky hair, down his neck and torso, exploring every inch gently.

Draco ran his tongue along Harry's lips, and Harry allowed him access, sucking and nibbling. His hands were wrapped tightly around Draco's waist, not ever wanting to let go. Draco's arms were draped around his neck, and he was thinking the same thing. They kissed more fervently, more deeply, and it just felt _right_.

Draco pulled back gently, his cheeks flushed and eyes starry, but he still managed a smirk. "Well?"

Harry took a deep, shuddering breath. "Well, that was amazing."

"Is it worth the risk of everyone finding out?"

"Yeah," Harry answered, smoothing his hair.

"Oh good." Draco picked his sponge back up and polished his section of counter. But the entire time he was doing it, there was a grin spread across his face. Not a smirk, but an honest smile. Harry, conversely, was still shaking. But he couldn't fight back a smile either.

---

Snape came back at ten to dismiss them. Harry and Draco cleaned up silently, not daring to say anything that may give them away. But after they left and the potions door swung closed behind them, Draco slipped his hand into Harry's while they walked down the deserted corridor. "So. The Autumn Ball's on Sunday."

Harry looked up at him. "You said you hate balls."

"I do." They rounded a corner. "Sorry, but I'm tired of them. But I completely support the idea of spending the night in your room alone."

"Oh yeah?" Harry asked with a smile. "We'll have to arrange that."

They walked in a comfortable silence down the hallway, hand-in-hand. Draco slowed before a portrait of Salazar Slytherin. "Well, this is the common room," he said, dropping his hand. He gave Harry a second kiss, more chaste this time. "Well, goodnight."

"'Night, Draco," Harry answered. He turned and continued down the hallway, and heard the portrait swing open and closed behind him. Still smiling, he returned to his room.

---

Harry really wasn't expecting anything in the owl post the next morning, but while he was buttering a bagel, the same tiny black owl fluttered down in front of him.

_Dear Harry,_

_So. After kissing you last night, I still want to be with you again today. Go figure. This may develop into something long-term. And to hell with what "they" think. I'll see you later tonight. And I'll be looking forward to it._

_Draco_

Ron and Hermione were watching him. "Well?" Ron prompted.

Harry shook his head with a smile. "Don't worry about it." He got up and took his bagel with him. "I'd like to reply to this," he told his friends before he turned and left.

Behind him he heard Ron tell Hermione, "He is absolutely disgustingly in love." And, he silently agreed with a smile, he was.


End file.
